


til we're back together

by RenderedReversed



Series: Food [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Chef Loki, Gourmet AU, Gourmet Hunter Thor, M/M, Shapeshifter Loki, Toriko AU, everything is edible basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 20:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15517524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenderedReversed/pseuds/RenderedReversed
Summary: Thor leaves home. More importantly, he leaves Loki—with nothing but a jolly wave and not even an estimate of when he’ll return. How he expects Loki to not get bitter about this is anyone’s guess.Fine. Loki doesn’t need Thor anyway....is what Loki says, right before going to find him.





	til we're back together

Humans are strange.

All they ever seem to do is take and take from the Earth, even making their own sport of it. Loki doesn’t see the appeal; the Gourmet World is full of bountiful ingredients, if only one is strong enough to win them, but for every contest of strength, there is a balance.

It is the Gourmet World’s golden rule: never take more than necessary.

But humans—humans are greedy little things. They call themselves Gourmet Hunters, seek ingredients from all over their tiny Human World in excess. They would take from the Gourmet World, too, if they had the strength. Nothing seems to sate their hunger. The strong would eat themselves to death while the weaker lot would starve.

It’s barbaric. Loki would much prefer to never see a human in his entire life.

Unfortunately for him, Thor doesn’t seem to share his views.

Yes; if anything, Thor is _fascinated_. He disdains the wasteful as much as Loki does, but he argues that not all humans are that way. There are some that try to learn the balance inherent in prey and predation, and though their methods are imperfect, they are not beyond teaching.

Thor eats up stories from the Human World as if each are their own miniature feast. Loki should’ve ceased that useless nonsense a long time ago, but he’d thought—wrongly—that it would just be another one of his brother’s flightful fancies. One year, two years, a decade—Thor would lose interest sooner or later, and humoring him would fulfill his one (1) obligatory familial act of kindness for the while.

But then Thor says, “Brother, I’m going to the Human World!” and suddenly, Loki is not so inclined to humor him anymore.

The problem is, no one else seems to be against it. Odin says it’ll be a “learning experience”; their mother is of the same mind. Loki knows that his brother needs all the lessons he can get, but even by his standards, this is ridiculous.

His complaints go unheard. Typical.

So, in the end, Thor leaves home. More importantly, he leaves _Loki_ —with nothing but a jolly wave and not even an estimate of when he’ll return. How he expects Loki to _not_ get bitter about this is anyone’s guess.

Fine. Thor’s gotten bored of his brother and wants to play with his humans instead? _Fine_. Loki doesn’t need him anyway.

When Loki leaves home, no one even bothers to see him off.

Truly, truly typical.

* * *

When Loki finds his wayward brother, he doesn’t use the front door. Because _obviously_ not.

“Brother,” Thor says, surprised and—pleased to find him in his kitchen. Why is he so _pleased_? If Thor wanted to see him so badly, then he would’ve just come home, no need to have an apartment in the largest city the Human World has to offer.

Loki latches onto that feeling of being insulted like his life depends on it.

“Thor,” he says. He crosses his legs and adopts a more lackadasical posture. “Wish I could say you look well, but you really don’t. What do these humans feed you, grass?”

“The food is not so flavorful as the Gourmet World, but the chefs here are quite talented.”

Now Loki actually _is_ offended.

“Of course _you_ would say that; an oaf like you would eat anything,” he says, going for condescending and failing miserably. Now he just sounds bitter. The idea of someone else cooking food for Thor, _for_ Thor, that Thor _eats_ sours him.

Loki turns his cheek. He shouldn’t be surprised. Thor is as he usually is. Aside from being significantly weaker than his usual self due to Odin’s suppression of his Gourmet Cells, Thor is at home in the Human World. He dons their clothes, adopts their living standards, _eats their food_ —

There is no place for Loki here. He shouldn’t have come in the first place.

“Loki,” Thor says.

He looks back over.

“I’m glad you’re here,” his brother says, so blindingly sincere it almost hurts.

In fact, Loki thinks it _does_ hurt somewhere in his chest. He reels back as if Thor had struck him and snarls, “Save your false niceties, Brother. I’ll be gone soon enough; you were simply a stop on the way.”

The lie sounds weak even to him.

But Thor just smiles and says, “Alright, but why not stay for lunch?”

“In the _Human World_?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” says Thor. “Come now, Brother. Don’t you want to try their strange new flavors?”

The answer to that is _no,_ he really doesn’t. The Gourmet World’s ingredients are superior by far. But instead, Loki sighs and says, “I _suppose_ ,” like this had come at a personal cost to himself and Thor better feel at least a little guilty for it.

Then, Loki’s sliding himself off Thor’s table, expecting—not sure what he was expecting, exactly, but then Thor is there: a warm hand on the back of his neck, a soft rumble next to his ear, everything Loki was missing when he was gone.

“Good,” Thor says.

He presses their foreheads together and smiles—hasn’t stopped smiling since he first saw Loki in his kitchen.

Loki feels like he should say something.

Then Thor is pulling away, but not far; he takes Loki’s hand, laces their fingers together even as he tugs him towards the door. It’s almost like they’re young again and wandering to the outer perimeters of their father’s control—traversing the hostile, bountiful environment of the Gourmet World together, the two princes of Asgard.

“Don’t pull so hard,” Loki says, finally finding his voice. “I’m coming, Brother.”

Thor squeezes his hand. “Good,” he says again.

* * *

“When you said ‘stay for lunch, Loki’, one would assume that meant you had lunch _already planned_.”

“Who said I didn’t?”

“Well, did you?”

“No,” Thor says, with not even an ounce of shame. “But the best meals are those well-fought for!”

“If I wanted a good fight, I wouldn’t have bothered going to the Human World,” Loki snips back.

Predictably, Thor ignores him, and predictably, Loki still goes along with it anyway. There's an underlying thrum of Thor-patented adventure vibes beneath the mass of muscles that is his brother; Loki knows that look anywhere. Thor can't stay still for a minute when he's excited. His hammer arm is all twitchy, and there's a grin not quite there but threatening at the corners of his mouth.

No monster in the Human World could possibly compare to the weakest ant in the Gourmet World, and yet, the proof is there—Thor is _excited_. Loki can't fathom why.

They fly anyway, Thor using Mjolnir and Loki as a hawk, and it feels close to what they used to be.

Eventually, the river they're following begins to climb. They track it up along the mountains, weaving through the peaks and terrain until they finally reach what Loki assumes to be their destination: a picturesque natural lake, walled away from the outside world by an enormous, crashing waterfall.

As Thor begins to descend, Loki spies a perfect landing spot: a rocky outcrop jutting a small distance over the lake, far from the whirlpools caused by the tumbling water. Thor must see it, too, and they both alight in one smooth, simultaneous motion.

Loki shifts. Feathers to robes, talons to boots, wings to skin—transformation is his nature, instinct ingrained. Even now, what his true form is and is not lies murky; not even his Gourmet Cells contain that information anymore. If he thinks too hard about it, it's like asking a man why he holds his knife in his right hand and his fork in his left: there is no answer, only fact.

Thor is watching him.

Loki brings his gaze from inward to outward and catches the tail-end of his brother's hasty retreat. It doesn't make much sense, really; Thor always watches him. He's several centuries too late to get embarrassed about it.

Then again, it's better not to apply common sense to Thor.

“They call it Death Falls,” Thor says, motioning towards the waterfall. The skeletal remains of creatures unfortunate enough to get caught up in its momentum are still churning below.

“Hm,” Loki says. He glances at the lake instead and finds it much more interesting. For one, it's clear: he can see the large, speckled coelacanths and ostracoderms making a slow course through the water, dodging old tree trunks and riff raff. He can see every pebble, every grain of sandstone—plants, fish, every ripple of water. Nothing is rotting.

He jumps from the outcrop and lands silent on the surface of the water.

“Brother?” Thor calls.

Loki ignores him, bending down to take a handful of water and bring it to his lips. It goes down cool, if not fairly terrible.

Thor takes one look at his face and starts laughing at him.

Loki tells him exactly what he thinks of that. "Terrible," he says, and emphasizes it with a flick of his wrist.

“Don't splash,” Thor chides. He wipes the water off with a hand. “Still licking everything, I see.”

"Just because some people take their tastebuds for granted doesn't mean I do."

Thor doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he just smiles down at him, a soft curve on his otherwise well-chiseled face. It looks, feels, reads like affection and Loki wants to both drown and flinch away from it.

“Well?” says Loki. “Where’s lunch?”

“Patience, brother,” Thor says. Still, he points towards the waterfall and replies, “In there.”

Loki understands immediately. The water is without taste here, and clear; odd, even for the Human World. All those delicious minerals pulled down from the mountains must be going _somewhere_ —and where better than an isolated cave behind a large, menacing waterfall, the perfect place to secrete and nurture a tasty delight?

It’s like marinating a piece of meat in a dark and quiet place, only over hundreds of years. There are similar instances of this in the Gourmet World, and each of them have been quite the treat for Loki.

…Ah. His brother still knows his tastes, it seems.

“Lead on, then,” Loki says, lifting his chin and motioning. If Thor wants to bring him out, then he’ll do 0% of the work.

It’s not like Thor _minds_ , anyway. He likes showing off.

Thor beams at him. “We’re going for a swim,” he says, and then jumps into the water.

But, as anything Thor does, it’s graceful. It’s the weight of his clothing, of Mjolnir that causes waves—Thor himself is as home here as he is in the skies, or on land. Loki lets himself slide into the water with him, and they begin their swim towards Death Falls.

There are a few more daring creatures that approach them, seeking a meal. Even in the water, Thor makes quick work of them. He lets not a hair on Loki’s head be touched—that Loki is able to handle himself, is in fact many times stronger than Thor is in his current state, does not mean he _should have to_ , to Thor, and Loki is content to let it happen.

They dodge mini-whirlpools caused by the churning waters, riff-raff that has been smashed and will be smashed further into jagged, sharper things. Thor dives deeper and Loki follows. They can stay beneath the surface for hours on end; longer still, if they wished.

Soon they reach a wall of piled rock, made as if by some landslide. Thor runs a hand along it as he moves, searching, and when he finally finds what he’s looking for, he motions for Loki to come see.

There is a crevice surprisingly big enough for Thor to creep through—Thor is no small shape. Some of the edges of the rock have been shorn off around the entrance; it must’ve been a path travelled before, perhaps by some great beast, that there is no danger in collapse against the fall’s constant pressure and it’s considerable size.

Still, it’s a little snug. Loki shifts into a minnow and follows alongside Thor’s ear.

As they swim up along the path, eventually they reach a point where the water ends, and Thor climbs the rest of the way with Loki resting in the crook of his neck as a tiny white mouse.

“One would think,” Loki begins, perhaps goading, “you would’ve flung your way through the waterfall instead of sneaking through the rocks like a rat.”

“The Human World has taught me the merit of considering things another way,” Thor says. He heaves himself up the final step and drops down onto the cave floor. “A fact you tried to teach me long ago. I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

Loki stares. Then, he bites into Thor’s skin hard enough to draw blood.

Thor yelps. “Loki!” he cries, wounded as he tosses him off his shoulder and rubs at the teeth marks. “What was that for?”

Loki shifts back. “Oh, just making sure you were actually Thor,” he says. A tongue darts out and licks the small bead of blood dotting his lower lip. “Ah yes, definitely my stupid brother.”

“Wait a little longer if you’re hungry,” Thor says. “We’re almost there. Could you, ah-” he motions.

Loki blinks once, slow, before drying them off and erasing his presence. Thor does the same.

“The fish that lives here is easily frightened,” Thor reveals as they walk down the tunnel. “It was a fact my friends and I learned the hard way the last we came here.”

“Oh? Did you manage to eat anything at all that day?” Loki asks. He smiles a bit to himself at the thought of Thor’s disappointed face.

Unfortunately, Thor only brightens up at the mention. “Yes, actually! It was good fortune that Anthony found another pool. Ah, Anthony is a chef—he runs one of the finest restaurants in the entire Human World, and-”

Thor rambles on. Loki lets the sound of his brother’s voice roll over him, deep and familiar. As everything of Thor’s, it’s infuriatingly easy to listen to.

Loki can almost forget that he’d had to trek halfway across the world to hear it again.

 _Almost_. He won’t let himself forget, because even this—Thor’s voice, Thor’s gestures, Thor’s care and Thor’s negligence, his company and his attention, all of it is temporary. And Loki won’t let himself forget that.

“Brother, we’re here.”

“Yes, I can see that for myself, Thor.”

Before them spans a golden pool of glittering viscuous liquid, the result of hundreds of years ofdistillation. A stalactite hung above drips more of this mineral-rich liquid, making soft ripples at every slow, steady interval.

Loki has cooked in pots bigger than this pond. Then again, the Gourmet World’s cooking equipment is vastly superior to the Human World’s—who knew what size humans considered ordinary for pots.

They creep closer to the edge. There, swimming sluggish, quiet circles round the pool were a handful of slim-bodied fish. They shone even more brilliantly than the pond water they lived in, each scale emitting a golden light able to illuminate the entire cave.

“They’re called shining gourami. Do you like them, Brother?”

Loki turns his head. Thor isn’t looking at the fish. He isn’t paying them one iota of attention—instead, he’s looking at Loki, like his opinion means the world to him.

For a moment, Loki doesn’t know what to say. Validate him? Mock him? Which Thor did he want to see the most?

Loki moves to the water’s edge and kneels down. He dips his hand into the viscuous pool and waits for a fish to swim by—not difficult at all; so unused to predators or obstacles of any sort, one glides right onto the palm of his hand and wriggles a little before stilling.

It’s heavy.

Loki blinks and says, “Not bad for the Human World.”

Thor beams. “The water is a popular oil among the top chefs in the Human World,” he says.

Loki pulls the shining gourami from the pool and wordlessly summons a container. The fish slides in easy, but wiggles a little without any water.

Loki licks his finger. Ah, so this is where all the minerals went—it tastes light years better than the lake outside.

“Adequate,” he says, and fills the container with oil as well.

He and Thor catch several more before Thor claims their haul good enough. Back at the entrance, Loki _considers_ leaving the way they came, but then deems it too troublesome and simply waves his hand to part the Falls.

Thor laughs. “Eager to taste them, Brother?” he asks. But he also doesn’t say no, and follows Loki right out.

They fly to a tall stack of rock away from the waterfall’s spray. Loki takes one look at his brother’s face and _knows._ His mouth twitches.

“You bring me all this way for lunch and expect _me_ to cook?”

There’s a reason Thor is the God of Thunder and not of shame. “I do so love your cooking,” he says—and Loki _does not_ preen, thank you very much, “Besides, you probably wouldn’t have trusted the food of any of the chefs here.”

Loki doesn’t deny it. “I’d sample the fare _you_ have.”

Thor smiles. “Next time,” he says easily.

And Loki doesn’t _care_ , really—except he really, really does. He wants to reach over and pluck that ‘next’ right out of Thor’s mouth, squirrel it away and sit on it like a dragon would his horde. _Next time_. That’s a promise, right?

…Well, since they’re here—

Loki settles and begins to pull his cooking supplies from his dimensional space. He resolutely does not look at Thor, only tells him to move out of the way, he’s blocking the sunlight, Loki needs _elbow space_ to cook, and would he refrain from breathing down his neck?

Thor laughs and obliges to it all, but he doesn’t remove the weight of his stare, suffused with affection as he watches Loki work. It’s as heavy with flavor as the shining gourami in Loki’s hand, as conspicuous as the sound of Death Falls crashing in the distance. Thor allows no room for Loki to be ignorant of it, and Loki flusters, but the scent of grilling fish and warm, steaming rice fills their camp as delicious as it’s ever been.

This is where Loki performs his best, after all—under the heat of Thor’s full attention.

He serves Thor a plate first and waits.

Thor takes a bite. The crispy skin makes an audible crunch in his mouth, and the meat of the fillet is so soft that it practically melts at the slightest touch, some bits clinging to his lips along with the sauce. Thor licks it away, and then he takes a spoonful of the lemongrass rice.

“It’s delicious,” Thor says sincerely.

Loki, as if he hadn’t been waiting this entire time for just those two words, says, “Obviously.”

If Thor knows, he keeps it a secret—or is so occupied with eating that he barely has time to say anything else. But, well, that’s Thor.

Loki’s Thor.

They’d left the city at half past noon, and the small adventure itself had taken several hours. Now as Loki plates himself a serving, it’s nearly evening— _some lunch_ , he thinks, but it’s hard to be annoyed when Thor looks so genuinely happy.

 _Next time_ he’ll ask for a proper lunch, because there _will_ be a next time. Thor said it himself. Loki will hold him to his word, even if he has to do another trip halfway around the world for it.

He contents himself with that as they share a late lunch, the image of the sun setting behind the mountain range at their backs.

* * *

“Will you go back to Asgard?” Thor asks as they take back to the skies.

Loki doesn’t know. Asgard without Thor is a dreary place indeed, its one shining jewel their mother. Loki’s still upset from before, however, and he’s loathe to pain her company with his bitterness.

He’s not going to tell Thor that, though.

“Perhaps,” Loki says cryptically.

“I see,” Thor says. _What_ he sees is unknown—Loki hadn’t really given him much to work with. “When would I see you next? I’d love to introduce you to my friends.”

Loki scoffs. “You think introducing me to _humans_ will convince me to return?”

“Not just humans, but my friends,” Thor says. “I think you’d like them.”

Loki thinks to Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg, and Sif—all Thor’s friends, all of which Loki certainly didn’t like. A crow could not wrinkle their nose, but Loki does his best equivalent of.

“A long time yet, if that’s the case,” Loki tells him.

“Loki-” Thor begins, but Loki would rather not have this conversation.

“I have places to be, Thor,” he says, “and you’ve wasted enough of my time already. Farewell, and try not to die with that weak body of yours—it’d be a shame if I wasn’t around to laugh at you.”

Then, Loki peels away from their formation of two, letting the wind currents carry him higher and higher until he’s among the clouds. He shifts to a stork for good measure, though he doesn’t think Thor will try and follow him. His oaf of a brother too probably has places to be—friends to be with, a life where Loki does not belong.

 _Until next time_ , he thinks, and clings to that thought as he flies towards the edge of the Human World. _Until next. Until next. Until next._

The world is vast. He has time and resources both to devise a plan to bring Thor home to him—Loki just needs a place to get to plotting.

 _Until next we meet,_ he thinks a final time, and then, _soon_.

**Author's Note:**

> help i've fallen down the thorki hole and can't get up


End file.
